Mismatched
by Cass Perenelle
Summary: [HHB, part AU] She had always taken him for granted, but now it was time for her to learn that he was more than that innocent and inferior boy she had first come to know. ::Chapter Three is up!::
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't even own the laptop I'm using, it's my Dad's.

**Title**: Mismatched

**Summary**: She had always taken him for granted, but now it was time for her to learn that he was more than that innocent and inferior boy she had first come to know. And as for him, he would always be the one who was going to fix and clean up after her "mess", literally.

**Author's note**: I've read a lot of theories on how Cor and Aravis got married to one another … some readers think that she had made him do it (since she was so manipulative and he was so naïve), and yet, some readers think that they were meant to be together since the beginning of HHB because _opposites_ attract.

Well, here is my own take … with a little twist here and there.

* * *

**Prologue**

_Narnian year: 1015_

Aravis Tarkheena had always been the proud one. Compared to Cor (formerly known as Shasta), the Prince of Archenland, she was prouder, smarter, and more assertive. Cor was exactly the opposite. He was humble, and a slow learner, but possessed a very great perseverance, and was a bit tentative. You could tell that these qualities were developed due to their different upbringings.

One was born as a great lady, and was used to lavish things and unlimited respect, and treated it as her due. One was adopted by a fisherman, and lived by the sea shore nearly all his life (until some time later), receiving unfair beatings and being boxed almost daily … almost smelled like a fish himself.

Yet both children of different worlds met each other one fateful night, and they were forced to journey together … for Narnia and the North. But I'm not here to tell you of that adventure; I'm here to tell you about what happened afterwards … after Aravis was freed from that unwanted betrothal, and Cor had finally found his true family and took up his rightful place as the crown prince of Archenland.

You see, it was a bit hard for Aravis to start treating Cor as what he truly was, that is, a member of the royal family of Archenland. She was already used to treating him quite unfairly, and was used to addressing him in such _impolite_ manners. But, like any well-born nobility, she was taught not to show her real feelings, how to paste an expressionless look on her face every time. She was careful not to show how sorry she was for her former treatment towards Cor, though sometimes every now and then she would find herself feel quite coy around him, for he had times when he would be positively noble.

As for Cor himself, it was even odder for him. For one he was no longer being called Shasta. He had to live with the fact that he actually had a twin brother by the name Corin, and his father happened to be King Lune of Archenland himself. If before, nobody would notice him as he walked past the market or anywhere (and always risked himself being boxed in the ears instead when he was noticed), now everyone would bow to him with such flourish that it always made Cor think that if those people didn't watch it, they might end up kissing the ground.

It took both Cor and Aravis quite a while to get adjusted to their new surroundings. Aravis finally got over her embarrassment and Cor had finally gotten use to be greeted as 'Your Highness' by nearly everyone he met. But despite this fact, that didn't mean they would stop treating each other quite beastly.

On a fine summer afternoon, one of the princes was seen running through the winding hallways, finding his way to the throne room where he knew his father and the court members were having yet another protocol meeting. The Narnian summer Festival was nearing, and they would be glad to play their part as the neighbouring country.

"Father! Father!" he said with a pant. All heads were turned into his direction that very instant, as the King Lune stood up, frowning politely at his son.

"Is something amiss, my dear prince?"

"Something _is_. You must come with me at once; my royal brother and our lady companion are just about to have a competition!"

King Lune didn't even bother to hide his amusement, and asked his son to go on. One could mistake the look on Corin's face as the alarm after seeing a nearing unknown army.

"Those two had agreed to a competition, to see who would reach the top of the tree the fastest! Oh, do come! They are going to break their necks and they won't listen to me!"

King Lune wasted no time lingering in the throne room, for he himself was feeling rather intrigued to see the sight that had made Corin cringe at the thought of it.

Meanwhile, at the courtyard, two children of different genders were standing facing one another … one was holding her chin up while the other was looking somewhat doubtful.

"Hesitating, Cor?"

"I am not sure about this, Aravis…"

"Oh, enough of this nonsense. You've given me your word!"

"I did, but I'm not sure if it's worthy of _me_ to compete with a _girl_," said Cor.

"Oh no, you did not just say that, sir. I may be a girl, but surely, do not judge a book by its cover," said Aravis, who took Cor's words as a personal insult. "Don't say another word, because I won't take a 'no' as an answer."

This showed how manipulative Aravis could be towards Cor.

"She has got to learn to live with disappointment," muttered Cor to himself, and was lucky that Aravis did not hear him for she had turned around and walked off to the chosen tree. Said tree was indeed the tallest and the biggest one in the courtyard, and it gave Cor an impression that it would be quite easy to climb and reach the top, as it had so many branches to hold on to.

"Are you ready?" asked Aravis, her eyes were already fastened on the farthest branch at the top of the tree. She had removed her silk outer garment, and was now barefooted. Cor followed her lead, and took off his fine sandals.

"Ready."

"When I say 'climb', we'll start climbing," said Aravis decidedly.

Cor frowned at her. "No fair. Surely you'll say 'climb' when _you_ are ready and have a great start—"

"CLIMB!"

Cor felt like a dolt now as Aravis started to climb the tree while his feet were still fixed to the ground.

"I'm going to get you for this," he muttered in annoyance, and started to climb the tree himself. Have you ever heard that first impressions have always been wrong? Well, Cor knew that now. The tree might have many branches to hold on to, but it was a beastly process to reach the first branch.

His first impression about Aravis not being able to climb a tree as skilfully as the boys of her age had been wrong as well. She was a very fast climber. What really annoyed Cor was she had reached her second branch while Cor was still hanging on to his first, and one of Aravis's feet was straying onto his head now.

"Watch it!" he yelled at her, and heard her gleeful laughter ring in his ears.

As for Aravis, she was enjoying every second of it. She was beating Cor, and no victory would taste as good as this when she finally reached that very top of that tree, while he was still struggling below. Then all of the sudden a loud voice rang throughout the courtyard.

"COR! ARAVIS!"

"My father!" said Cor in alarm.

"You're not going to stop now, are you, Cor?" Aravis asked with a jeering smile as she worked her way to the fourth branch now.

Cor was torn between his obedience for his father or his pride, he was not sure which one was more important. "But – but—"

It was not until later that he knew his father had been worried for Aravis's safety more than his own, for he was a tough boy after all, and his father trusted him to take care of himself.

'My dear Aravis—" here Cor had stopped climbing to listen to his father, but Aravis just wouldn't stop. "I will not bear these antics. Get down here on the ground this very instant, dear lady."

But still, Aravis was aiming for that tree top. Cor hung on to his third branch, thinking that it was time for a desperate measure. He didn't want to see Aravis disregard his father's order, and he didn't want to lose to her either. Cor reached out for her leg, which was dangling from one branch and pulled it with such force that he heard her screaming in surprise.

Then, it all happened so fast that he felt the gravity was now showing its greater prowess to the both of them. Cor lost his footing, pulling Aravis down with him. But, just when he thought they both were about to fall helplessly onto that hard ground, their fall was halted … by Aravis's strong hold.

"Cor, you fool!" he heard her hiss at him angrily as he tightened one grip around her ankle and another was reaching out with his other hand for a branch, "You're hurting me! Let go!"

He looked down distractedly, and was surprised to see the ground was even nearer than he thought. But of course, Aravis _didn't_ know that. His father might be thinking that they were on their way down despite the little accident just now.

He let go and landed on his two feet, unscathed. But when he looked up, Aravis was still holding on to her branch, perhaps not knowing the ground was even nearer than she thought.

Then the most unthinkable idea came crossing his mind, and a grin grew on his face. He reached up and tugged at both of her legs, despite a dozen pair of eyes that were fixed on them.

"Cor, I will not have you tugging at a lady's bare legs like that—" was the last thing he heard from his father before Aravis fell on him in a heap. His little prank backfired. Now he was laying sprawled-eagle on the ground with a great amount of Aravis's long hair swept across his face and going up his nose before she rolled over to one side, realizing that she had crushed him.

"What did you do that for?" Aravis hissed at him as she shook him roughly by his shoulders, looking more annoyed than worried for crushing Cor earlier. "That was not funny!"

Certainly, she had taken this as another personal insult as well. With one last angry stare, she walked away, leaving him right there. Corin came to Cor's "rescue" to regain his standing position, and much to Cor's embarrassment, his father chuckled quietly at this (but not in that unkind way), remarking on how he had been literally "crushed" by a girl.

Corin asked him if he wanted to avenge Aravis for crushing him, but Cor told his brother that he deserved it.

She had always been like that; Aravis was of the sort that think very highly of herself. She always made him feel like he was the foolish one. Cor was not even sure if Aravis liked him for who he really was. Sometimes he thought Aravis had nothing but hostility for him because they would argue almost about anything nearly every day. He blamed himself most of the time, knowing that it must be his beastly and uncivilised ways that had made her treat him that way. What other reason could there be?

On his way back to the castle, he plucked a wild flower of the red sort, hoping to make up to her before dinnertime.

As for Aravis herself, she was not quite sure why she befriended Cor. Perhaps it was because she was thankful that she owed him her life. Still, he might be a prince now, but he had mingled with a different sort in his early years. At least Corin behaved like a prince, most of the time, instead of a fisherman's brat. Nobility came second nature to Corin, but not to Cor. Because of that, Cor would always be the Shasta she knew. His name and status might have changed, but sometimes superiority got the better of her. Most of the time she felt superior to Cor and felt that he would never be royal enough suit her. She thought Corin suited her better, in a more noble way.

But oh, dear me, it was not until years later that she realized how wrong she was.

* * *

**Author's note**: _Constructive_ reviews, please. Thank you. 


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_Narnian year: 1022_

One look at Aravis Tarkheena these days could actually make you wonder if she really was the same dishevelled girl who had journeyed to the North for her freedom seven years before. For a start, her once unruly shoulder-length hair was now longer than expected, but there was never a day that you would see her with her hair loose. She had also grown a great deal taller.

Regardless of the daily telling offs to be more ladylike, and her obligation to follow some daily lessons … she was becoming a little too carefree. Her governess was not pleased with her proneness to "outdoor activities", and kept on telling her that it was very improper of such young well-bred lady to wear breeches and sword-duel.

"Oh governess," Aravis would say in reply, "don't be such a wet blanket." For even though she had learned to treat others well and more politely, she just couldn't help herself from being so _straightforward._

The governess would purse her lips until they were nothing but a thin line; half blaming the King for being too lenient, half blaming the Southern blood in Aravis. She found it really hard to understand Aravis's proneness to join the royal brothers for a hunting party, and similar outdoor activities that could make the governess cringe even at the thought of them.

Lately, her governess was getting somewhat impatient with the King, who seemed to enjoy hiding from Aravis the fact that at least two dozen young great lords had already approached the King asking for her hand in marriage. The governess had been hoping that the news would reach Aravis' ears as soon as possible, praying that Aravis would change for _good_.

As for Aravis herself, she felt very contented with the freedom Anvard had presented to her. Had she stayed in Calormen and got married to that stupid man, she highly doubted if she could have the privilege to do whatever she pleased. The King was spoiling her to the maximum, overjoyed that there was again a young woman in his court.

But there was another thing that should be known about Aravis. Now that she was older and knew how to actually think wisely, she thought_ marriage_ was a very disturbing matter. Yes, you can say that she was a bit scarred from her past, but she was very careful in hiding her apprehension.

But then again, someday, as her married friend Lasaraleen liked to say, "Someday you will have to settle down, Aravis darling," and after a while, Aravis herself realized that her friend was quite right.

"But the day is not here yet, so why fidget?" was her reply, laughing lightly.

Bless the girl, if only she knew.

Summer was nearing, and the weather was getting somewhat warmer. Aravis loved summer the best, for it was the season when many great tournaments would take place. And this year, King Lune had taken the honour to present Anvard as the official host for several jousting tournaments. To Aravis, she just wanted to take her place on that dais to watch and to learn new skills from those tournaments, but King Lune had something else in mind.

He thought that the time was finally here.

---

"There it is."

"No madam, that's the tree."

"_I _know what I'm seeing, stop contradicting me."

"_S-S-SH!"_

But it was too late to pull the string now; their target had heard the hiss and galloped away for its life.

"NO! Oh, now that was just wonderful, Cor … look what you've done!" cried Aravis. Cor didn't even bother to hide his surprise, being shouted at was the last thing he needed on this hunting trip. No, fighting with Aravis had been the _ultimate_ thing. Not far away, his twin brother Corin who was positioned to hide behind a bush, could only look away and heave an exasperated groan.

"Why do you have to spoil everything?" Aravis said, angrily.

Cor gaped at her, shocked.

"_Me_? I've done nothing of the sort! You—" here Cor took the pleasure to _glower_ down at her from his superior height, "_You_ should have stayed at home. This hunting job is not fit for a lady!"

"I can shoot arrows from my bow as fast and as accurate as you can, sir!" Aravis jabbed one pointed end of her bow into Cor's chest, and despite their huge height differences, she glowered up at him. "In fact, I'm ready to take a challenge to prove that I'm a better shooter than you."

"So now you're offering a challenge, eh?"

"Well, I think I just did!"

"Cease, the two of you … you're giving me a headache."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Corin," said Aravis in a much softer tone, much to Cor's growing irritation who thought it was not fair of her. Why she couldn't treat him as fairly as she treat Corin, he wondered. Then, he found her scowling up at him again, and she added (in her familiar hard tone), "Ugh, this is no good! I'm heading back home!"

Now Cor was positively and wholly annoyed.

Before he could even stop himself, he shouted, "Finally! The wisest thing you've done all day!" at her back. Had she been a _man_ instead of a _lady_, he was sure he would hit her squarely in the face. Aravis was a huge headache sometimes!

_No_, his brain corrected, _not sometimes, always!_

"I've always done the wisest of all things. It is _you_ who is too slow to _notice_ that," she replied with a great amount of sarcasm, and mounted her horse without difficulty, tossing her long ponytail behind her, but not riding off just yet.

He couldn't believe her! Once again, for the umpteenth time since they met, she was calling him _stupid_! He wanted to throw his own barbs, any barbs he could possibly think of but his brain seemed to cease to think! It took him _years_ to learn how to be a real gentleman of the Archenland royal court … and Aravis spoiled it all in just a matter of seconds. Twice a day, the least.

What he wanted to do one of these days was to have Aravis locked in the North Tower, for real. Let her shout, let her cry … he wouldn't care. She was getting quite annoying lately. Cor honestly thought that the summer warmth must have really got to her, in a really bad way. How he wished it had been winter, where Aravis would prefer to sit by the fireplace, reading.

But then again, winter was the season when most of the indoor lessons would be going on. Diplomacy lessons with Aravis were his nightmare.

"What's the matter?" he heard her ask next, in a much louder voice, "cat's got your tongue?"

Whenever Aravis smirked at him like that, she reminded him a lot of her squashed-faced cat. He happened to like cats after that great adventure, but it was Aravis's cat he disliked (clearly because of its owner, poor puss).

"Speaking of _cat_, Aravis, with that smirk of yours, I must say you do resemble your cat now," he told her bitingly, for his anger was driving him to the edge. Her smirk vanished almost instantly.

"Keep my _cat_ out of this!" she cried next, affronted. "You – you're impossible!"

"Of course," Cor responded indifferently, "I'm only impossible when I speak of the _truth_."

Aravis glowered at him.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me from this moment on," she warned icily.

"Fine, see if I care," was his moody reply.

Indeed, the silent treatment Aravis had threatened him with was exactly what he needed at the moment. He needed to spend all those "argument" times to train harder.

For the first time in his life, Cor didn't feel guilty at all for shouting at her. Besides, he knew that they would make up eventually, usually that very same evening, before another fight would break out the very next day. The same thing kept on happening between them, and it was getting a lot worse now that Cor was under the pressure to win several tournaments for Archenland that summer.

"Kudos, brother," he heard Corin say dryly as soon after Aravis had left the place, "for that amazing display of temperament."

Cor scowled at him.

_Corin certainly don't know what it is like being me_ … he thought grudgingly as he made a move to pick up the bow and scattered arrows flung by Aravis earlier.

"You don't have to do that," said Corin a few moments later, and Cor looked up.

"Do what?" asked Cor, wondering for a moment if his brother was saying about the argument he just had with Aravis.

"This," replied Corin, taking Aravis' quiver filled with arrows from him, "picking up everything. We can have the attendant to do that."

Cor glanced swiftly to look at the attendant who was sleeping blissfully under a tree not far away … completely unaware of the world.

"It's just a simple task, Corin, there's no need of that," he replied, for modesty had always been his best quality. Too bad, despite all the _good_ qualities he had, it seemed like Aravis had always seen the slow side of him … the side of him that he detested deeply. Indeed, Cor realized that he was improving greatly in many of his theory and practical lessons, but Aravis seemed prefer to live in the past when he was an ignorant peasant who could not even write his own name.

"You have to do something about your temper, Cor, it's getting a bit offhand lately."

Cor sighed deeply. Shame began to form, realizing that a quick-temper was certainly not one of those great qualities his father wanted him to have. Why he couldn't be more like his father, he wondered … especially when he had to succeed his father to become the _King_ some day. Thinking of it had always made him feel quite dejected, knowing that he had to overcome his temperament problem. Sooner rather than later.

But if he had to blame his short temper on someone, he knew there was only one person that deserved all the blame. There was not one day that Aravis would get on with her life without putting him down …

"I'm trying my best, my royal brother," answered Cor without much interest, hoping his brother would take the hint to leave him alone. But he needn't worry about that now, for the attendant had stirred out of his sleep and Corin excused himself to have a quick word with the attendant.

Relieved, he looked down and realized that he was still holding Aravis' bow, the bow that was made exclusively by the dwarves as a gift to welcome her in Anvard several years ago.

"Spoilt brat," he muttered darkly, staring at the initials engraved finely on the fine bow.

---

If it took only a matter of seconds for Cor to be angered, it also took a few seconds for Aravis to overcome her anger. In fact, by the time she reached the stable, she was no longer driven by rage. Instead, she fell into a strange, light mood. This had always been the aftermath of her fights with Cor, which she always won. Or so she thought.

Aravis dismounted her horse, and patted it lightly on the nose before leaving it there at the stable. Then, she checked her dress to make sure there were no revealing stains, especially on the lower hem of her skirt and on her riding boots. She couldn't bear to think what the great lords of the neighbouring countries would think of her if she just walked into the castle Entrance Hall with hay under her boots.

It was sometimes a wonder how Aravis could be that heartless, and not feel sorry at all for what she had done. At the moment, she was more worried about what the great lords might think of her instead of worrying about what the Prince of Archenland might _feel_ about her.

When she finally got inside, she breathed a sigh of relief for nobody important was straying in the Entrance Hall, except for a few castle attendants and the faithful guards.

"My lady."

Aravis halted before inclining her head politely at a male Dryad.

"His Majesty would like to have a word with you in his private study now, my lady," said the Dryad, bowing deeply.

A few minutes later, Aravis was seen walking into the King's private study, and she was caught by surprise the very moment her eyes fell on her governess, standing primly right next to King. She used to be her real governess, who taught her everything she needed to know about academic lessons. But now that she was older, the old damsel had also become her chaperone … or in another word, her duenna.

But she preferred to call her as the 'governess' for a good reason. She, like Cor, had her own woes to tend.

"Aravis dear, please, have a seat," said the King quite jovially, and Aravis sat on her favourite settee at once. She avoided looking at her governess, knowing that the lady must not be pleased seeing her presenting herself in her riding boots. She swore she just saw that the old damsel giving her a sharp look a few moments before.

"Now … if you please, Wilhelmina," said King Lune, motioning her governess to take a seat as well.

"No, thank you, Your Highness," Aravis heard her decline, and this time she couldn't help looking at her. Indeed, Wilhelmina's eyes were clearly fastened on the eighteen-year-old, and she looked really displeased. Aravis chose to ignore this.

She waited for the King to occupy the settee right across her with patience that she couldn't possibly have shown if the King had been Cor. Then Aravis began to feel worried, it felt as if she was about to have one of those telling off moments again.

_I should have known_ … Aravis thought half grudgingly, _she is complaining about me again._

But something else was happening for the King was smiling gently at her next, and Aravis couldn't help staring at him.

"My lady!"

Aravis jerked with both eyes opened wide, and she swore that the King himself had jerked too.

"It is very improper for a young lady to look at a gentleman straight in the eye," she heard Wilhelmina say next, and this time she felt herself turned red … out of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Now, now, my good lady, I'm flattered at being called a 'gentleman' but I do not mind, at all …" said King Lune with a kind smile. Aravis' mortification soon faded away, and this time she inclined her proud chin triumphantly at Wilhelmina in a challenge to see if she dared to reprimand her again.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," said the old damsel, bowing apologetically, "but I must tell her ladyship what's right and what's not if you want her to make her debut this summer."

_What?_ thought Aravis at once, bewildered. Of course the girl knew what "debut" means but when her governess said it, that didn't sound right …

"Debut?" asked Aravis bluntly with both brows up (Wilhelmina couldn't help from shaking her head at Aravis's bluntness), "what kind of debut?"

"Now, hush, my child … let me speak," said King Lune. She saw the King took a deep breath here. "How old are you now?"

Aravis thought that this was a very queer question indeed.

"Eighteen," she answered with a small frown, "_why_?"

"Lady Aravis, you will answer only when you're questioned."

Aravis opened her mouth to protest reflexively, longing to yell at that old damsel to shut up but thought better of it. So the next thing she did was shutting her mouth grudgingly, feeling annoyed to the fullest. She hated to be _corrected_. And Wilhelmina did that a lot.

Aravis always found herself being insulted when sometimes she was actually correct in certain matters, but people would still argue with her. This, I must say, had always been one of the reasons why she could act so critical and cruel towards everyone – well, not just everyone, towards Cor.

Because she couldn't find any one else … who was inferior to her, that was why.

Seeming to be oblivious to the governess's outburst, King Lune cleared his throat and continued, "My dear, I have to approve and admit that your time is here."

She tilted her head to one side, frowning politely at the King.

"My _time_ is – pardon?" She would have said "what" instead of "pardon", if not weren't for the sharp look Wilhelmina was giving her.

"It is time for you to make your official debut to the society, for you to be courted by your potential suitors."

Aravis might be a bright woman, and she knew she was even smarter than Cor when it came to diplomacy lessons, but this time she found it was hard to figure out the meaning behind the King's words. _Suitors_? she thought, _I have suitors?_

"I beg your pardon?"

The King chuckled at her innocence.

"My dear, I know I have promised you all the liberty you wanted, but it is time. The time has come for you to know what a real courtship is like, and to choose a great man among your suitors."

She narrowed her eyes, for the meaning hadn't really sunk into her brain.

"By the lion's mane!" exclaimed her governess (who was a true Narnian), and Aravis winced at the sound of the governess's high-pitched voice, "My lady, it is time for you to seek for a husband!"

_Husband …_ she repeated faintly in her brain. They were telling that her time was here to find a _husband_! And she thought that this day wouldn't come, especially this soon and when she least expected it!

"But I do _not_ want to get married," she replied briskly, "not this _soon_!"

"My dear, every courtship doesn't have to end up with a marriage …" said the King patiently, "I am just giving you the chance while you're still young … and at eighteen, I know that you are wise and mature enough to think for yourself. And so, it is time."

Aravis was tongue-tied for the first time of the day, unable to think of anything to reply. She just sat there, gaping at the King.

"The first tournament will be held a week from now. You have just enough time to make a few dresses, learn several lessons … anything you need to know about courting. I trust your governess will take care of that."

Aravis lifted her gaze to look at her governess at once, and found the old damsel was already at the double doors … motioning her to come along with a slight incline of her head. Aravis couldn't help rolling her eyes, sighing inwardly. The last thing she needed was _this_.

"Do I _have_ to?" asked Aravis dully.

The King smiled, "What do you think?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, she bluntly replied, "I don't think I'm going to enjoy this summer."

King Lune chuckled in return, and Aravis was annoyed to see the twinkles in his eyes. The King was clearly pleased and happy with this matter.

"You will enjoy this summer, my dear, you will."

If 'spending more quality time with Governess Wilhelmina' had been in her to-do list, then yes, she probably would. As it was, the summer looked as forbidding as a prison sentence.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

It was already a routine for Aravis's governess to walk into her bedchamber every morning to draw the curtains back, and to prepare her dress while her ladies-in-waiting would prepare her bath. Aravis's sleep wouldn't be affected at all, for all of the curtains of her canopy four-poster bed would not be drawn back until half an hour after eight o'clock in the morning.

But that morning was different as the curtains were drawn back half an hour earlier … Aravis had forgotten that it was the very first day where a series of important lessons was going to take place. Feeling more morose than yesterday evening, she climbed out of her bed and staggered drowsily to the bathroom.

It took Aravis about half an hour to shake off her drowsiness. She got into a little heated conversation with her governess about 'the earliest bird gets the best worms' proverb … in which Aravis irritably told Wilhelmina that she was not a bird, nor had she any interest in worms, good or otherwise. It took another hour to get dressed up (Wilhelmina insisted that she should wear her hair down, but Aravis protested so in the end, her hair was partially tied) and another half an hour was spent for breakfast.

During breakfast, she was too sleepy and miserable to get onto Cor's nerves, and Cor was quite happy with this. King Lune tried to pull them into a conversation about the anticipated tournaments but none of them were enthusiastic about it now … because the tournaments had brought so called woes to each one of them.

Aravis was not happy with how her life was going to turn out, as she was going to be flocked by her "waiting suitors" five days from now, the earliest. She ate half-heartedly through breakfast, and would only smile rather morosely whenever the King talked to her. If yesterday she had been shocked and could only think of her annoyance for her governess, today she was _miserable_.

Didn't she leave Calormen to get away from such things? She ran away from that unwanted and rather stupid betrothal, away from her father and his wicked wife. Now it was happening again. Not that King Lune was anything like her father, but it seemed like no matter where she went, she was expected to marry.

But still, selfish brat she might be, she just couldn't want to give up seeing the King from a brighter side. She felt it was wise of her to just go on with the plan, taking the King's promise deep in her heart that she would never be forced into marriage ever again.

After a midnight musing, which resulted in her drowsy state, she could tell now that the King was just trying to introduce her to the society … or rather, to introduce the real society to her. And in order to do just that, he had given his consent for her to be courted by a bunch of … _suitors_.

It was too early to call those suitors "idiots" anyway.

She wondered what their treatment towards her would be like.

Clearly, it wouldn't be as platonic as the treatment shown by Cor and Corin.

But still, there had got to be _another_ way to introduce her to society other than as a woman to be courted.

After breakfast, the first class began. If this class should be named, it would be probably called, 'The courtship courtesy'.

Aravis didn't have much difficulty in this particular class, for she was already taught the very basics of noble courtesy. Both types of courtesy are very much the same, she thought … but the first session hadn't even last for two minutes when she started to feel annoyed. _Courtship_ courtesy was even worse than the _noble_ one.

The first session was a bit like "introduction to men, in theory". What Aravis needed to work on the most was her sharp tongue, and when her governess mentioned this one flaw to her … she was very unhappy about it. Of course, try point out some flaws in someone who is as proud as Aravis, and that is hardly surprising.

"Gentlemen do not like sharp-tongue ladies, particularly one who is very critical and blunt … as well as sharp-witted. Alas, my dear, you have these qualities that none of your suitors would probably enjoy. Men prefer the humble, reticent type of ladies."

Aravis was proud to be called "sharp-witted" but Wilhelmina went on describing the kind of ladies most great lords wanted … acting unintelligent was included. That spoiled Aravis' mood at once.

"But governess … that is not fair! Just because they are men, doesn't make them smarter," was Aravis's blunt reply, and she had to endure the radiating sharp stare from her governess for the next few minutes.

In the next session, she was taught how to address a man properly. Once again Aravis didn't find this difficult, and Wilhelmina commented that for such blunt lady, she did know how to greet and curtsey gracefully.

But once again, her governess told her that she needed to work on something.

"When you curtsey, make sure you keep your eye contact soft and bat your lashes. But do not look at a man straight in the eye, my lady, it is very vulgar. Instead, look at him between your lashes and do NOT incline your chin up."

"_Bat my lashes_? Is that supposed to be a joke?" Aravis asked indignantly, "and how am I supposed to keep my eye contact if I'm not allowed to look at him straight in the eye?"

Wilhelmina looked quite expressionless despite the tone Aravis was using.

"You're not going to be in the company of elderly men, my lady; you're going to be in the company of your _suitors_. Show that you're interested, and at the same time, do not be too formal and stony. This is the basic art of flirting."

Wilhelmina made her practice on batting her lashes for the next fifteen minutes, without much success. Aravis certainly didn't nail this one. And her governess's patience was wearing thin too.

"For the love of Aslan, my lady, flutter your lashes, _not_ blink your eyes! You look as though you are in a dust storm with those faces you are making!"

Aravis felt so ridiculous by the end of the session.

Next was on reactions.

"Laugh."

Her eyes widened.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Try laughing, I want to hear it."

"But why?"

"I can't tolerate questions in this session, my lady, just do what I've told you."

Sighing deeply, Aravis forced herself to laugh, but it sounded so dull that her governess had to hold up her hand to cease her, cringing.

"That is not natural," commented Wilhelmina, and Aravis scowled.

"Of course it's not, you forced me into it!"

"Do _not_ scowl," Wilhelmina said sternly, before added, "Lady Aravis, you must learn how to laugh properly. And not just laughing, _giggling_. Men like it when ladies laugh at their jokes, and you must bear in your mind that no matter how unoriginal the joke is, you must _giggle_ to show your appreciation."

"By the mane of Aslan, why must I show my appreciation by giggling?" Aravis moaned. "Can't I just ask him to a mock sword-duel instead? Or perhaps talk about weaponry? Don't all men just love—"

"Do _not_ mention the fact that you can shoot and duel well, my lady! Men do not like equality and they are not what they are seem to be!" warned Wilhelmina, and Aravis swore that her governess's eyes were bulging.

"Neither _are _women," replied Aravis sinisterly, narrowing her eyes. "And speaking of _equality_, governess, are those suitors of mine worthy men?"

Wilhelmina pursed her lips together until they were nothing but a thin line. To Aravis, that only meant one thing.

"If you think the King is going to let the pauper on the street to court you then you thought wrong!" was her grim reply.

Aravis truly felt that she would rather have thousands of history lessons than to have _one_ more lesson on _this_.

She was finally dismissed from the first lesson for lunchtime, but not before she was given a direct order.

"You shall meet me again in the Great Hall for the second lesson of the day an hour after teatime, my lady."

Aravis might have made many mistakes and decisions in her life without regretting them, but this time she could feel that she was about to regret this decision she had made to go along with these courtship lessons. She had another six chaotic days to endure … this day was just the beginning.

---

"That is good enough for one day, my princes. We'll start training again tomorrow," said the old centaur, and Cor collapsed on the ground, leaning his back languidly against a tree.

"This has got to be the worst yet …" he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. They had been practising while the sun was still high, and he was sweating all over. Stress was overcoming him slowly, for knowing that the first tournament was nearing. If he was not the _Prince_ Cor, he had no doubt that his stress wouldn't be as great as this.

"That was just the practice, wait until the real tournament," said Corin, sitting right next to him. They bade casual farewells to their trainer, who was undoubtedly heading back to the castle to have an audience with their father about their progress, about Cor's progress especially.

"How many matches will you have?" asked Cor casually.

"All boxing matches," answered Corin, and Cor couldn't help realising there was smugness in his twin's voice. "Don't know how many, but I'll knock them all out, that's for sure."

Cor could only smile faintly in return, half-admiring the confidence and spirit in his brother.

He knew that he was the opposite of Corin. Corin had always been known as the imperturbable one, and possessed more ounces of confidence than was good for him. Sometimes Cor felt so ashamed of himself for he thought that he had no good _royal_ qualities in him, and he felt that it was no wonder that Aravis always favoured Corin than him.

He snorted softly to himself. Thinking of Aravis had only worsened his mood.

This morning was a great improvement, as she was rather quiet during breakfast. For once, she was not saying anything. Instead, she just smiled sleepily at him from across the table. Cor swore that her drowsiness must have made her mistake him for Corin, but Cor didn't dare to mention this to her.

Soon he was thinking of the numerous young great lords he had to endure that coming week, more than half of them were about his age. And he was about to compete with probably half of them. Each of them must have possessed a much broader skill in jousting and sword-duelling, and they were royalty since birth.

He, on the other hand, didn't know that he was a royalty until he was twelve or so. The first year was utter chaos, as he had to learn how to read and write and other basic diplomacy lessons at the same time … not to mention the royal courtesy lessons.

This was the year when Aravis began to realise how inferior he was compared to her. Before, she had been adjusting to a new home as much as he, and they would spend more time together just to see a familiar face. They would still fight, but would spend just as much time as friends, if only because there was no one else. But, when King Lune had asked Aravis to teach Cor manners and courtesy, she started looking down on him again. Little things that she didn't even need to think about came only with hard practise and concentration to Cor. She had always been confident in her place in the world as a Lady, but trying to teach Cor had showed her how much of a Lady she was in comparison to Cor's ability to be a gentleman.

"Come on, let's head back inside," said Corin, jumping onto his feet, "I'm feeling rather hungry."

Cor followed his brother wordlessly, desiring to have a long, hot bath instead.

It was about an hour or so after tea time that Cor found himself straying onto the grand landing on the first floor. Here he saw a faun rapping the double oaken door, leading into the Great Hall. He found this act was very intriguing, as the faun was carrying a flute. Then the door swung open to admit him and Cor was confused, for he knew that the Great Hall would only be used during special occasions.

Cor glanced around to look behind him, and saw Corin was trailing not far behind. He inclined his head slightly in the direction of the Great Hall, motioning his twin to follow his lead.

When he finally reached the double doors, he leant forward to press his ear against the door, listening hard. Here he heard muffled voices.

"What are you doing?" asked Corin with a frown.

"Listening," he replied.

"Good heavens, Cor, you're even worse than I thought," said Corin, shaking his head, "You are the lord of this castle, act like it."

Great. Now it was Corin's turn to criticise him.

Before he could think of a smart reply (which actually could take a lot of time), his twin quirked one brow at him and pushed the door open. Cor stared at him.

"You didn't—"

"I think I just _did_," replied Corin indifferently, and he stepped inside … uninvited, unannounced.

_The nerve of him!_ he thought at once, annoyed. He was getting sick of all this superiority matter. Despite his annoyance, he followed his twin's lead all the same.

Once inside, Cor heard someone gasped and exclaimed, "Ah, Prince Corin!"

It was Aravis's governess.

"I hope we're not interrupting, Lady Wilhelmina," Cor heard Corin say without an ounce of guilt in his voice. He had always wondered how his twin could act so imperturbable.

"No, no … I'm glad that you're here, Your Highness. In fact, you're just the person I'm looking for," the elderly governess replied. Here her eyes caught sight of Cor and curtseyed at once. "Prince Cor …"

Cor bowed his head slightly in return. He noticed that Corin sometimes tended to ignore this courtesy. He started to look around the hall in curiosity. The Great Hall was still looking as dull as ever. There was no apparent difference that indicated it was ready to receive its guests by the end of this week. The curtains were still the same golden ones, and the gold carpet that led from the entrance to the grand dais on the other end of the hall was not there. But, the marble floor was polished, and the curtains were all drawn back.

This was when his gaze fell on Aravis, who was standing at the nearest window. She was looking in their direction with a very unfathomable expression. Cor was surprised to see the colour of her dress; it was pastel pink.

She usually wore pastels only during special occasions.

"May I be so bold to ask what you are doing here?" Corin asked next. Cor frowned at him, remembering how bold he was to barge into the hall without knocking or anything. Now he was excusing himself for being so bold to ask a mere question? Cor felt that he would never understand the delicate balance of superiority and gentility that seemed to be required of Archenlandish princes.

Expressionlessly, Wilhelmina replied, "Dance lesson."

"Dance lesson?" Cor couldn't help asking bluntly next, surprised.

Matter-of-factly, the governess replied again, "For Lady Aravis."

By this time, Aravis had joined their little circle, looking confused herself.

"The dance lesson shall start in a few moments," Wilhelmina told Aravis. Then, turning to the brothers, she added, "It will be a great honour, Your Highnesses, if one of you is willing to assist Lady Aravis."

"Assist me in what?" asked Aravis at once, looking slightly apprehensive. Wilhelmina looked at her with one of her no nonsense expression.

"_I beg your pardon_, Lady Aravis, do not say _what,_" – here Cor saw Aravis turn slightly pink, and he tried hard not to smile. But the smile didn't appear anyway, for the next thing he knew, Corin said (in a loud voice), "My good lady, shall we?" and bowed deeply.

Corin was actually asking Aravis to _dance_.

The apprehension faded from Aravis' visage at once as she curtseyed and accepted Corin's hand with the most genuine happy smile Cor had ever seen. Annoyance started to bind him as the intense atmosphere he had just entered was changing rapidly. Now Aravis was asking her governess what the first dance would be.

He wondered for one moment what her reactions would be if he had asked her instead of Corin.

Cor fell back, watching his twin and Aravis' antics.

They _looked_ happy, and his annoyance grew rapidly than before. He was _not_ enjoying this for an unknown reason and he didn't know why.

Could it be because he was jealous of Corin's ease in understanding what was expected of him? Jealousy was quite unlike him, but what else could it be?

He honestly didn't know.

He quietly slipped out of the Great Hall. He could spend his time better by finding a desecrate dance teacher himself than lingering around watching Aravis looking so happy in his brother's arms. After all, three is a crowd.

* * *

**Author's note**: Not as good as the previous two chapters, I know. But then again, you do the judgement. Thank you so much to the reviewers, you guys are so nice! Thanks to **acacia59601**, my beta. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's note**: Can't believe I've been away from the internet for five days! That's certainly a record. I'm actually having a two-week exam, just done with the first one. Well, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. 32 reviews so far, that's another record. :) I love you reviewers. -hugs-

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Aravis had never thought that she needed someone to talk to more in all her life. She _had_ to get this particular woe off her chest; it was sending her over the edge bit by bit. All of the courtship lessons had been leading up to what was going to happen in the next few days, and she was incredibly nervous. Guests would be arriving soon, and she would be expected to greet and entertain them. She knew that every time an unattached man was introduced to her she would be looking them up and down and wondering if they were there to court her. Each polite conversation would be watched for hidden meaning. She would not be able to tell if a man was interested in talking to her or if his attention was somewhat more romantic. It was all about to start. So she paced to and fro in her bedchamber in the middle of the night, wondering who to turn to. The lone burning candle on her bedside table flickered as she continued to pace around, but Aravis gave no hint of stopping.

Scratchy, her pug-faced cat was watching her intently from her bed; a pure interest was gleaming dangerously in his eyes. His green eyes darted from side to side, following Aravis' movement. But, she gave no hint of acknowledging his presence either.

Of course, the first name that came across her mind was her governess, Wilhelmina. But Wilhelmina would not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night, particularly to talk about something as silly as nerves. She would most probably tell Aravis to forget about it and get her "beauty sleep".

Or worse, Wilhelmina would ignore her after the tantrum of this morning. Well, it was _not_ really her fault … in fact; it was an offence against her. The nerve of Wilhelmina telling her to wear revealing dresses! The sight of the low neck-lined gowns had almost suffocated her, ironically. And the see-through dresses! All the frills and laces and tassels!

Aravis grudgingly crossed out her governess's name on her mental list of midnight confidants.

Next was King Lune. Aravis frowned at her own thought, thinking that King Lune was the most suitable person to consult. But then again, he caused this woe, and surely the King would appreciate a good night sleep as on the morrow, Anvard would be expecting her first guests of that summer.

She crossed out that name too.

The options were narrowed down to _two_.

The brothers.

Corin was just the perfect person to talk to, but she didn't want to risk her own life, venturing into his bedchamber in the middle of the night like this. She would be probably knocked out by Corin, for he might think she was some thief or a dangerous intruder. Besides, he would probably shrug her off. Like Wilhelmina, he might think that she was just being silly.

The proud and confident Aravis was fretting about what was going to come upon her on the morrow?

Corin would laugh her off, she was sure. So, the choices were narrowed down to _one_.

_Cor_.

Why didn't she think of him before?

Knowing that Cor had the frailest self-confidence of anyone she knew, she was sure that he was spending a sleepless night, too. His woe was even worse than hers. There was a hint of hope in Aravis, thinking that Cor _might_ actually understand her worries.

But confiding to Cor was probably the strangest thing she could have ever done, if she ever had the actual courage to go and look for him. True, Aravis had her own alter egos, pride and confidence … but those were the things she wanted everyone around her to believe her to be.

Underneath it all, it was all sham.

Why she worked so hard to show the world the face that they assumed her to be was a secret she wanted to keep to herself. Aravis knew that she was not perfect, she heard her wicked stepmother chant it to her countless times. She remembered how her stepmother stopped at nothing to put her down every day, bossing her around as if she was one of the servants, controlling her life.

That unwanted betrothal was certainly the very, very last straw.

Sometimes pretending to be something she was not was tormenting her slowly on the inside, as she had to put on a masquerade the whole time. But most of the time, she actually enjoyed those moments … especially when the dejected and wounded looks came upon Cor's face.

The more miserable he gets, the happier she would be.

It felt like she was getting the anger and grudge for her past off her chest, gaining satisfaction … knowing that at least here in Anvard, she was a superior to someone. After all, Cor was the perfect person upon which to sharpen her wit, because the nineteen-year-old was still acting like the Shasta she knew, despite his title and status. He always thought she was right, was quite slow to anger and was not assertive of himself … until lately.

Truth to be told, she did feel slightly intimidated by his unusually sharp stare. What happened to the Cor she knew, she wondered. Their latest fights were getting really offhand, and it seemed to her that she couldn't stop herself from throwing any barbs she could possibly think of. And often, she would be the one who was going to leave Cor looking like a dolt.

Just yesterday they were arguing about their seating at the long table during the welcoming banquet.

Consulting Cor, the crown prince of Archenland was certainly the last thing she would ever do. Why she would want to lower down her guards and wear her feelings on her sleeves _now_? She was already used to resolving her problems and keeping her fears to herself, why open up now? Aravis truly believed that she could trust no one other than herself, and she trusted that nothing could ever change her thinking.

She didn't need anyone. She would deal with whatever the world threw at her on her own.

The moon was shining annoyingly bright that night, and there was not a single cloud in the sky. A heavy rain would have been far more appreciated, as the cold and the rumbles of the thunders could actually help her to fall asleep. Aravis could only sigh in disappointment as she turned her gaze away from the window.

Maybe a long walk through the winding corridors down to the kitchen would do her good. After giving Scratchy a quick stroke on his stomach (the cat was sleeping on his back with his legs flopping in every direction), Aravis slipped out of her bedchamber.

---

_Left, right_,_ up and down_. If he couldn't master the latest skill shown by his mentor this morning, he would be as good as dead in his very first _serious_ tournament. Owls hooted as rodents scampered for their burrows, and every now and then the unusual nippy wind of summer blew quite unpleasantly into Cor's face.

His sword was getting heavier with each second, but he didn't dare to stop. He was nailing this skill, at last. Cor could not give in to the tiredness he felt, not just yet. Night was becoming even brighter, and Cor could only thank the moon for shining so bright.

Sweat seeped through his tunic and breeches, and Cor kept on wiping the trickles of sweat with the back of his free hand to keep them from getting into his eyes. His hair was getting annoyingly long but the prince had no time to trim it for the sake of their incoming guests. His father and his twin had nicely reminded him that some of the lady-guests might expect to have an audience with him, perhaps with some home of getting into a more serious relationship with him.

He just couldn't understand why he was expected to court _someone_ this summer. Why couldn't they just leave him alone to concentrate on the oncoming tournaments? He had his own pride and dignity to take care of. The last thing he would ever want to do was make a fool of himself in front of _the_ lady of the court.

_Aravis._ He saw her throwing her tantrum this morning. It was highly unusual, as the tantrum was quite open and it was thrown at her governess. It was a little nice change when he thought about it. Cor didn't know what the fit was all about, but somehow he could tell that it was about her dresses … two Dryads (both were famous for their handiworks in dressmaking) were summoned to have an audience with her right after the fit.

After a while, Cor stopped swinging his sword, panting heavily. The midnight breeze felt cold against his exposed skin, and he gave a shudder, thinking that now it was time for him to return back inside. His stomach was groaning for food and drink due to the long hours of practice.

Putting his sword back into its sheath, he started to drag his feet with the remaining energy he had in him.

When he reached the long corridor heading towards the kitchen, he didn't expect to see anyone else but the guards and the torches on the wall.

Aravis was certainly the unlikeliest person to wander in the middle of the night, but yet there she was, only a few feet ahead of him in her dressing gown and fluffy night slippers. He knew it was her, because of her dark-coloured hair. Most of the lady-attendants in the castle were fair-haired due to the Northern blood in them. He was a fair-haired himself, and so were his father, twin and most of the members of the court.

She had probably heard him, because the next thing he knew she halted, and whirled around.

"What?" was the reflexive word that slipped from Cor's mouth, stopping into a halt as well.

"Who's there?" she responded, and he saw her narrowing her eyes. Perhaps realising it was only him, she added, "Oh, it's _you_."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, feeling slightly awkward at this unexpected encounter. The last time he saw Aravis in her dressing gown was when they were about fourteen or so.

Unabashed, she replied, "Going to get a snack before turning in. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

She moved closer, and Cor reflexively took a step backward.

"You're sweating," Aravis remarked, wrinkling her nose. Cor hoped he didn't smell that bad. Then, he saw her gaze fell on the sheathed sword he was holding. He quickly hid it from her view.

"There is no need to hide it from me," she said with one of her familiar smirks, "Out for a practice, aren't you?"

"That's very sharp of you to pick that one up," replied Cor, little specks of annoyance due to her smirk were emerging rapidly. She just smiled significantly at him before she turned around and started for the kitchen. There was a hint of flowery smell in the air when she spun around, and it felt really strange that during the night, the smell was quite overwhelming.

But then, Cor had another matter to think of other than his over-attentive male senses.

He was torn between following her lead and finding some food, and returning to his bedchamber. But his stomach gave another turn, and he had no other choice to follow her. _One apple and a glass of drink, and I'm out of there_, he thought to himself.

He and Aravis went their separate ways in the enormous kitchen … one was heading to the fruit baskets and one was heading to the bread baskets. Cor didn't trust himself to start talking to her, realising that they had nothing _nice_ to talk about. Well, except for the seating problem they hadn't solved, but the last thing he needed was another fight with Aravis at midnight.

When he turned around to look for a clean goblet from the long table, their eyes met. It felt strange, because for one moment he thought she looked almost _concerned_.

"Are you nervous?" Aravis asked from across the table, returning to her usual expressionless mode again.

He frowned at her. _Aravis_ was asking him something as nice as that? He must have died, and gone to Aslan's country.

"Why do you ask?"

_Correction_, his brain told him, _why do you care_?

"I'm just trying to be nice to you," she answered, rolling her eyes. It was obvious that she was getting annoyed. Sighing, she added, "No, really. Are you?"

He was not sure whether it was safe to confide in Aravis. In the end, he thought it would be better for him to keep his fears to himself.

"It would be a lie if I say no, but then again, it's really none of your business," he told her, avoiding her gaze.

"None of my business, eh?" he heard her say, "I'm the lady of the Archenland court, my lord, and you are the crown prince. You must be aware that your defeat would be my defeat too."

Cor snorted softly at this, feeling that perhaps it was time for him to _remind_ her that she was of the Southern blood, and she was a pure Calormene. But pointing this out might cause all prejudice to break loose, and the last thing he needed was a war of prejudice in this castle. Instead, Cor put on a brave face.

"It's a little too early to say that, don't you think, my lady?" he told her, getting into the civility mode she had prompted earlier. "I would appreciate to hear the words of encouragement from the lady of the court now, before it's too late."

He hoped that she had caught the sarcasm in his tone.

"You might not need it," Aravis replied coldly, "Your rivals would probably let you win anyway, as your home is the host of these tournaments. Defeating a lord in his own country is as cruel as killing him, so I bet with my whole life that they will let you win … just to be polite."

"Are you trying to patronise me?" Cor said, outraged. "Telling me that I'm no skilful swordsman? That I can't win a battle without someone throwing a fight!"

She put on an impassive look.

"Oh, I'm not belittling you, Your Majesty. It is just you who feels that way."

Now she was telling him that he was just being _paranoid_!

"Aravis, I'm warning you … the last thing I need is _this_. Stop putting me down or you're going to regret it."

He wasn't sure whether it was the effect from holding his sword or seeing her in her pastel blue dressing gown, but he was starting to see her as real woman … and that he was, after all, a man. Aravis should know better than wounding a _man_'s pride.

---

She was doing it again.

She couldn't believe her own nerves! Coming from a man, the insult she had just given the Crown Prince would have been enough to have her challenged to a fight. Whatever she should do? Aravis thought that she would rather die than saying that she was sorry. If she looked away, he would think she was shrinking away, scared. But truth to be told, she was getting a bit scared. Trust her to be alone with a man in the middle of the night. Cor could do anything to her, and considering what she had said, not many would have blamed him.

Judging from his tone, the sharp stare and the way he was holding his sword … Aravis finally realised that she was only a _woman_ and that he was a man. She never really noticed how tall and strong he was. Thank Aslan for the long table that was separating them.

"I'm not putting you down," Aravis said at last, feeling relieved that her voice was not shaking.

"The least you can do is apologise for your bluntness," Cor told her darkly.

"Was I?"

"So, now you're having amnesia?"

Now it was his turn to smirk at her. Aravis chose to ignore this.

"Maybe …"

"You do realise that we're now in the kitchen with no one else around … and what with the fact that we're both of the opposite genders?"

Now she wished she hadn't angered him. The worse deed a woman could do was make a man realise his true colours, and she had done just that.

_Brilliant_, she thought. She mentally cursed herself for being so bold at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

"And that as a man, Aravis, I am stronger you, literally."

She reflexively took a step back, now she felt really scared. Cor seemed to be enjoying the reaction his threats had on her, for she saw him grinning next.

"I can actually haul you to the North Tower and lock you up there?"

_Haul you to the North Tower and lock – what?_

For one crazy moment she thought he was going to –

_Never mind_, Aravis thought, blushing at the thought of it. At the same time, she felt relieved. Just the other day Wilhelmina had warned her about some men and their _incorrigible_ _lusts_.

It was quite frightening to listen to Wilhelmina's warnings, and was even more frightening listening how a man could be overwhelmed by his lust and enslave any woman to do his bidding. But what was she thinking? This was just _Cor_, for heaven's sake. He was the last man she needed to worry about inspiring mind-numbing lust in.

She pulled herself together, realising that she was just being silly. But she tightened the silk strap around her waist all the same.

"I can't believe that you've just threatened me, Cor. Do you know that I can scream at the top of my lungs and wake the whole castle up? You may be a man of strength, but you have forgotten that I'm a woman who—"

"Loves to throw an unreasonable fit?" He grinned.

Aravis narrowed her eyes at him.

"— _who_ has a much higher pitch of voice than you do, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"I'll gag you, if that's the last thing I do – oh wait, that will be first thing I'll do."

"You cannot be serious," she said in astonishment, taking a few steps backwards for an extra precaution and added, "_You_ wouldn't dare."

The jeering smile on his face was getting somewhat sinister.

"Try me."

"I'm not apologising if that's what you want!"

"No?"

He stalked closer. Aravis had a feeling that he might as well jump over the table and get her.

"No," she replied stubbornly, keeping her gaze locked with his to indicate that she was not afraid of him, not even the slightest bit. Which was a lie, come to think it ... her heart was actually slamming wildly against her chest!

"You wouldn't like it, Aravis, I'm sweating and probably a bit smelly."

The nerve of him! He was teasing her! It never crossed her mind that Cor could be so – _teasing_, not even once.

"You're losing it."

"All right, that's it. I'm coming to get you—"

But Aravis had already bolted to the door, knocking down several baskets containing food as she dashed for the exit. Being flocked by her suitors sounded even better than being locked in the North Tower now.

---

Cor had never seen anything as funny as that in his life. Never. He couldn't believe that his little plan had actually _worked_ on _Aravis_! Despite the dead silence, he started to snigger.

Now he knew what frightened Aravis.

If only he knew about this earlier. He could have actually _flexed_ his muscles at her and send her scampering away. He would never have hurt her in any way, but she didn't know that. On the other hand, she couldn't bother him if she was locked in the North Tower ...

He decided to down a goblet of mead instead of water after that, celebrating his little brush of brilliance.

* * *

**Author's note**: I've forgotten to warn you that this fic will be rated T some time soon, just to warn you kids. –grins-

I have also decided to start **a rating system on the quality of the chapters** (this is to those who probably have no idea what to tell me in their reviews or too lazy to write a long review). For every chapter, please **give a rating from one to ten at the top of your reviews**. I'm giving this chapter a 6/10 myself because I can see that this is not my best yet.


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